Spiderweb
by Zabby
Summary: Taken from the prompt: Gibbs isn't speaking to Abby and it's frustrating her. She goes to Ziva to ask for help on how to talk to Gibbs. For Temerarious at NFA.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Spiderweb

**Pairing**: Abby/Ziva; Gibbs/Abby

**Rating**: FR18

**Genre**: Femmeslash, Het

**Category**: Angst, Romance, a bit of Fluff I guess (I'm never good at choosing these.)

**Spoilers**: None

**Warnings**: Just sex.

**Summary**: Taken from the prompt: Gibbs isn't speaking to Abby and it's frustrating her. She goes to Ziva to ask for help on how to talk to Gibbs. For Temerarious at NFA.

Thanks to taylorgibbs for the beta!!! *hugs*

Chapter 1

"Gibbs!" she called after him, running towards the elevator as he got on. "Gibbs wait! I'm sorry," she ended with a huff, her boot choice for that day making running almost impossible.

A stony face greeted her as the elevator doors started to close, ice blue eyes staring dead ahead, not meeting hers. "Don't apologize, Abby," he began. But the doors finished their closing before he finished speaking.

"It's a sign of weakness," she whispered, her body tensing with a mixture of sadness and guilt.

Turning her back to the elevator, the white lab coat sweeping out around her, Abby Sciuto, forensic specialist for NCIS, made her way to her lab, the whirls and beeps of her machines failing to comfort her. Sitting down on her spinning chair, she tugged Bert to her, a stuffed animal complete with whoopee cushion. As she hugged it tightly, the hippo let off a large fart noise that echoed through the room.

Slowly kicking out her leg to set the chair spinning, Abby rubbed her face on the soft fur as her mind ran through the events leading up to Gibbs walking out on her.

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An hour earlier, the team had been in the middle of a difficult case: a young Marine wife murdered, her young child, a girl, missing. Any time a case came across their desks that involved a child, Gibbs would always seem to push his agents to the breaking point, as they drove their minds and bodies towards a lead, towards the truth. This case, however, struck Gibbs too intensely, the memory of his own wife's and daughter's murders were too close to the surface.

Though he normally demanded completely competence from the people who worked for him or with him, he now demanded perfection. And for the first time in her career as a forensic specialist, for the first time in her history as Gibbs' favorite, she failed him. With most of the fingerprints coming back to their primary subject, Abby had hurried through the matching of the last remaining few, one being an anomaly. Unfortunately, that one had been the break they were looking for. The fingerprint matched the man eventually brought in as the woman's killer, the little girl later being found in the man's basement.

The Marine, Gunnery Sergeant Jack Dunn, had been known to have verbal altercations with his wife, screaming matches that could be heard down the block, had been missing for several hours after time of death, and wouldn't give the agents any sort of alibi. Combined with the fact that the wife had been cheating on him and his fingerprints had been all over the murder weapon, all evidence had pointed to the Gunny. And with Gibbs' gut raging, there had been nothing to really dissuade the agents and point them towards another suspect.

Nothing until Abby had found a small evidence bag tucked into the corner of one of the boxes Tony had brought down. Nothing to put off Gibbs' gut until she ran the fingerprint and found the second suspect, the real killer. After that, everything had fallen into place, but in a different way, the puzzle completed with no loose ends, nothing to question or doubt.

And because of her error, her rookie mistake, an innocent man, a man mourning the brutal murder of his wife and abduction of his daughter, had been accused and practically verbally brutalized by Gibbs in the agent's pursuit. And Abby didn't know if he'd forgive her for that.

The worst moment had come when she'd had to make the call to Gibbs.

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Her hand shaking, she moved her finger closer to pressing the speed dial that would ring Gibbs' cell. Looking at the man next to her, she whispered, "I don't know if I can do this. What if he…" She couldn't finish the sentence, her normally energized brain stunned into silence.

Coming up next to her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Finished with the autopsy, he had shown up for a visit, not knowing his appearance would coincide with her panic. "You know you must, dear girl," Ducky began. "Abigail, you know he needs the truth. Otherwise, the information he has will only serve to distract him from the real perpetrator. You, as a scientist, cannot allow an innocent man to be persecuted for a crime he did not commit. Call him, my dear. Nothing is worse than keeping the truth from him."

But to Abby, Gibbs' reaction had been even worse than anyone could imagine.

"What'd you need, Abbs? I'm a little busy right now," Gibbs growled out. No one was supposed to interrupt him in the middle of an interrogation, but Tony had knocked on the door, breaking the flow of the interview. Standing up abruptly, knowing he'd have to restart the interrogation because of the interruption, Gibbs slammed his way out of the room.

Grabbing the phone, he glared at Tony, who slipped back into the observation room. Shutting the door to interrogation, he looked at the phone. Seeing the lab's number on the caller id, he felt his rage still and ease a bit. Abby would only have called if something had happened that needed his immediate attention.

"Abbs? You with me?" He bit out as he felt his patience draining. The case had taken an unexpected toll on him, both mentally and physically. And while normally talking to Abby relaxed and centered him, Gibbs had yet to break the guy in interrogation, and his tolerance was wearing thin. He wanted this man to break. He wanted to find the little girl who'd been ripped from her murdered mother's arms.

"Gibbs, I…I found something," she started, hesitating despite her resolve to stay strong and just come out with.

"Abbs, focus! What did you find? I'm in the middle of interrogating the bastard who murdered his wife." Gibbs gritted his teeth as he started to pace the halls, instantly impatient to get off the phone with her and back into that room.

"When I was closing up the evidence for the case, I was collapsing a box from the evidence Tony brought me. I had gone through all the evidence. Or at least, I thought I had. There was a fingerprint card sticking out a crack in the cardboard. I pulled it out. It was something that Ziva had collected. I ran the print. The results have only now just come in. I figured it would just match the man you have in there." Abby knew she was rambling, but she was trying to push away the moment she'd have to reveal her mistake.

"Abby! Get to the point!" Gibbs bellowed out.

"The print isn't his, Gibbs. The print doesn't belong to Dunn. It's a match to the neighbor. According to the evidence log, it came from the gun's holster. It's a match to the neighbor. Tony said…"

"He said he was having an affair with the victim," Gibbs finished for her. "Dammit, Abby! What in the hell were you thinking? Are you telling me that I'm interrogating the wrong goddamn man? And the right man, we've released hours ago? Dammit, Abby. That means he's got the girl. He's probably taking her somewhere now. How far does this put us back? How far has he gotten with her?" He asked rhetorically.

Slamming his fist into the wall, Gibbs grimaced. Rage poured through his veins as visions of the sick bastard with the little girl flashed through his head. Anger at Ziva for not double-checking her evidence. Disappointment and anger at Abby for missing the valuable clue.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? How bad you screwed up? You're supposed to be the best at that job, the best damn forensics scientist in the country. Obviously you haven't earned that title yet. Maybe someone else does need to be in that lab, someone you can be the assistant for. Maybe then you'd actually learn how to do a complete job."

Abby flinched as she heard the crash of his fist into a wall, tears running down her face as his words slammed into her. "Gibbs, I'm sorry. I can run a trace on his phone, see if I can get a location on him," she offered.

"Well, yeah, Abby. That might be a good idea. Why don't you do your actual job, instead of living in that damn fantasy world of yours?! Stop thinking about spiders and dreaming about being in a coffin. You're not paid to be a freak. Do your damn job." Slamming his phone into his pocket, he reached back to punch the wall again before seeing Ziva and Tony staring at him from the observation room door.

"What are you looking at?" He watched in frustration as his two agents scrambled around. "Go do your job and find the neighbor. He's our man. Not the husband. Abby found a print you took," he pointed at Ziva. "Ran it. Matched it to the neighbor. Now, go find the bastard!"

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Coming out of her memories, Abby squeezed Bert again. Taking some comfort in the loud fart, she continued to spin in her chair, her mind going down a more morose thought path of consequences. Tears ran unchecked into the soft fur she clung to as she tried to figure out a way to fix what she had broken. It had been almost a week since that fateful day when he'd stormed from her lab. But there had been no more confrontations, nothing more from him that indicated one way or another if he would forgive her or not.

He hadn't said anything. But Gibbs wouldn't, not to her. That first lashing out had been a fluke, nothing like his usual behavior. No, he'd just pretend nothing happened, but the connection, the light between them would be extinguished. He would come in, ask for evidence and leave. Maybe not even come in. He could call or just send one of the team down to find out what she had.

There had been no Caf-Pows, no stealthy entrances into her lab, no kisses on her cheek, or teasing, flirtatious glances. Nothing. And Abby didn't realize how much she'd come to expect him and their interplay, how much she depend on him to pop in on her. She'd joked about it, but she really did believe that theirs was a connection no one could explain, something in their minds that made them in tune with each other.

And she missed it. She missed him. Her life was empty, her days lacking color when he was no longer making sure she knew she was the favorite. And when her life lacked color, her days dragged on, no longer filled with the hope she always carried. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't drum up the energy to be the wild child of NCIS, the super-caffeinated, Energizer Abby.

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Watching from the doorway, Ziva thought, this is worse than when Abby gave up caffeine. Shaking her head, she walked into the forensics lab, calling out to break the other woman's reverie. "Abby? Abby!" Moving closer, she put her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Abigail, are you with me?" She knelt down to put her face at Abby's eye level.

"Don't call me Abigail," she whispered. Blinking to clear her vision, Abby gave Ziva a smile, a smile with half her normal life and vibrancy. "Hey, Ziva. Sorry, I was…somewhere else, I guess. Something I can do for you?"

Though all her current evidence had been processed and wrapped up, Abby would welcome something to distract her. She didn't want to go home, didn't want to be alone. It'd be even worse then. But if Ziva had evidence, she'd be able to concentrate solely on her job.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she asked, a fake smile plastered onto her face, "Have anything for me?"

"No, Abby. We have no current case. After you ran that fingerprint, we were able to put the case together quite quickly, even catching the suspect trying to board a plane to Costa Rica. He had shorn the little girl's hair, dressed her as a boy. I was quite surprised to see he had passports issued for them both. False, of course. But it helped to prove premeditation on both the murder and the kidnapping."

Swiping at the black streaks she knew her makeup had left on her face, Abby looked up at Ziva. "What am I going to do, Ziva? I ruined it. I screwed up. I almost got the wrong man convicted. He was convicted in Gibbs' mind. And I ruined it. Whatever chance I may have had…God, Ziva. What am I going to do? He called me a freak!" The tears started again as she remembered his voice on the phone, telling her how she had failed him. She'd spent so many years harboring her feelings, hiding her heart from him, always half in love with Gibbs, but never being able to show it. And now…

Putting her arm around Abby's shoulders, Ziva spoke, almost reading her mind. "Now you are going to take a deep breath. Then you are going to grab your stuff and that bag you keep in the back with your spare clothes. You will spend the night at my place. I have chocolate and wine. We will talk. You will cry. And we will work this out…together, Abby. He does not hate you. How could he? You fixed your mistake, which was just as much my mistake as yours. We caught the bad guy. The little girl is safe, and he will heal. All is right. And he will see that, Abby. He just needs a little time. In fact, he is probably more upset at his gut failing him than you. He will see that."

Ziva seemed so confident, that Abby wanted desperately to believe her. But when he had yelled at her, the things he said had hurt so badly, she no longer knew what to think. Before, she would have never believed he thought those things. But now…Had he really said all that because he was striking out, upset at himself for almost a suspect get away? Or was it because he really did believe her to be a freak and a failure?

"All right, Ziva. Just…give me a moment." Grabbing another tissue, she blew her nose, not caring how loud or gross it was. She wasn't feeling very ladylike at the moment. Sliding off the chair, with Bert still tucked firmly under her arm, she gathered her bag of clothes and her shoulder bag. As she shut down her equipment, Abby looked around, a defeated set to her shoulders. Her confidence was shot, no matter what her friend had said.

She tried to put on a brave face. "All right, I'm ready." Normally, Bert stayed at NCIS, guarding her equipment and whatever evidence might still be there. But tonight, he was needed.

Nodding, Ziva held out her hand, knowing Abby needed the physical contact right now. Their friendship had been getting stronger since the day she offered to help put together an exploded case. Starting with movies and talking on the phone about what had happened at work; Gibbs called it scuttlebutt, Abby called it gossip. But it had expanded through to girls' nights and spa vacations to something closer to sisterhood than friendship. Sometimes she even imagined that her relationship with Tali would have turned out much like her friendship with Abby. She was grateful for the friend she found in Abby and would do anything to help her fix what had gone wrong.

Holding onto Ziva's hand, Abby turned out the lights to her lab, not looking back, not seeing the red light blinking on the intercom, indicating a call was in progress.

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Leaning back in his chair, Gibbs tried to mask the pain on his face. Several days had passed since his malicious treatment of Abby. Focusing on work, he tried to ignore what he had done, needing to concentrate on catching the murderer and putting him behind bars. But the case was over now, his team's part anyhow, and he had nothing to distract him. Deciding it was way past time to apologize to her, he'd gone to Abby's lab, only to find Ziva there instead. And though, he'd left before she'd started to close down her lab, he'd heard enough to break anyone's heart. Even his.

He wasn't ashamed for listening in. After all, he knew he'd hurt Abby when he called her a freak and told her she was no good at her job. But he didn't understand the level of that hurt until he heard the pain and hopelessness in his girl's voice. And she was his girl. Not that he'd done a real good job of showing it. Rubbing a hand over his chest, he tried to ease the ache that had come to rest there when he'd hurt Abby.

Stretching his arms over his head, Gibbs wondered how he was going to fix this. Normally a Caf-Pow and a kiss on her cheek would fix anything with Abby. But this time he'd deliberately tried to hurt her, striking out at the core of what would cause her the greatest anguish. Not try, did. He had succeeded in that mission spectacularly.

Frustrated at himself – no, pissed was a better description – he slammed his hands on the desk, startling the two agents who were working on cold cases. "I'm going home," he growled. Sweeping up his coat, he clipped on his gun and badge, taking long strides towards the elevator.

He needed peace and time on his boat to figure out what to do, to figure out how to fix her heart, a heart he was finding he cared way too much about.

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A bottle of red wine, newly uncorked, sat on the coffee table, an empty bottle toppled next to it. Next to the wine, a platter of broken pieces of chocolate sat next to an empty pizza box. Twirling the glass in her hand, Abby watched the crimson liquid move in her glass. Half drunk, she looked up at Ziva, a half-smile on her face. "I think I am a little more than buzzed, Ziva," she said. "But, it feels good. Good idea, the wine and chocolate. And the pizza. All of it was good."

Picking up a piece of chocolate from the table, Ziva placed it on her tongue, letting the piece melt. "Mmm…why is it, do you think, that chocolate and wine go so well together?" Holding up her hand, she stopped Abby from answering. "I know, I know. There is some scientific explanation why the bits of chocolate go well with the sips of wine, but I was only asking rhetorically. I do not wish to know every little reason, I only wish to enjoy."

Rolling her eyes, Abby took a healthy sip from her glass, her vision a little blurry at the edges. "If you don't want to know, don't ask. But you're right. Sometimes it is better to not know every detail of the things we love."

"Dammit." She'd almost gone a half an hour without thinking of Gibbs and what she'd done. Closing her eyes, the pain from earlier returning to clear her alcohol fogged mind, she asked, "What am I going to do, Ziva? How am I going to fix this?"

Sliding closer to her on the couch, she pulled Abby to her, resting her friend's head on her shoulder. "Easy, baby girl. You have cried enough this evening." After the wine had been opened and the chocolate had been broken up into tiny pieces, after the pizza had been ordered and eaten, Abby had cried her heart out to Ziva, spilling all she had about the conversation with Gibbs, her secret fantasies about him in her lab, on the elevator, in his basement. Everything that had been building up in her heart spilled out to her friend.

And she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry again. But the wine hadn't done its job. The memories came back, and the alcohol made the tears too close to the surface.

Having spent countless nights over pizza and Chinese, popcorn and a movie, ice cream sundaes and music, Ziva and Abby had shared much about their lives: their childhoods, what it was like for Abby to be raised by deaf parents, what it was like for Ziva to run the streets of Israel as a little girl; their dreams, both figurative and literal, and desires; relationships, past and present; experiences, life and sexual. Everything girlfriends share, the two of them had spilled; all, except for their darkest secrets. Ziva had not told Abby about her time as an assassin, not wanting to cast shadows over their friendship. Abby had not told Ziva about her secret fantasies of Gibbs. But tonight, everything had changed.

"I have no doubt," Ziva began, "that even now, Gibbs realizes how harshly he treated you. He loves you, Abby-girl. You are his favorite for a reason. And whether or not he has come to accept that love, it is in there, coloring his actions and every moment he has with you." She ran her hand over Abby's back, long, soothing strokes. "Give him a little time. Let him work on his boat. He will calm down, and he will remember. I promise."

Pulling out the bands from Abby's pigtails, Ziva started to run her fingers through the long black tresses, making comforting noises as she did. When Abby's hand came up to grasp her collar, her arm accidentally rubbed against Ziva's breast, causing Ziva's breath to catch in her throat as her nipple tightened. She knew it wasn't intentional, but a combination of the wine, the let down after the adrenaline high from the case, and the woman sitting next to her was setting Ziva's blood heating.

Mentally shaking her head to get rid of the explicit fantasies that were playing out in her head, she tried to concentrate on the steady rhythm of her hand through Abby's hair. Breath in, breath out, Ziva, she thought. Now is not the time to make a move on your friend. She is hurt, vulnerable, and a little drunk. We both are. Do not do anything that would hurt your friendship with her.

From their late nights together, bonding sessions, as Abby called them, Ziva knew that they both had experimented with women in the past, though neither one of them would consider themselves lesbian. Abby had had a need to explore and to find herself, while Ziva's passion had always ruled her decisions in that aspect of her life.

But now, faced with the realization that she was slowly becoming sexually aroused by her friend, Ziva was at a loss. Abby's heart was spoken for, out loud or silently, and Ziva had no desire to upset her friend any more. She was not in love with her, but Ziva had long ago conceded that Abby was a beautiful woman. The desire was there, just never the opportunity. Unexpectedly, she could smell her own aroused scent lightly on the air, and Ziva was afraid time was running out for her to hide her state from Abby.

"Abby, I…" but she stopped. She couldn't embarrass them by explaining that she had to pull away from comforting her friend because she couldn't contain her own reaction. Only then, Abby surprised her.

"Sshh…it's okay Ziva. I know. I understand." Sitting up, Abby cupped her friend's face, rubbing along her jaw line with her thumb. Leaning in, she hesitantly pressed her ruby lips to Ziva's naked ones, pressing in when the softness she felt made her moan.

Putting her hands on Abby's shoulders, Ziva pulled back. "Abby, wait. You have had a rough day and too much wine. You do not want this."

Brushing the hands on her shoulders aside, Abby pressed in. "I want this, Ziva. I want you. Maybe I'm not in love with you, not like I am with Gibbs, but I care for you, and I'm attracted to you. I always have been. I need this, Ziva. For tonight, I need you."

She desperately needed to feel the comfort, to feel the connection she would find in Ziva's arms. And she trusted Ziva, as much as she did Gibbs or anyone else. She knew that after tonight, the two of them would still be able to work together, that going to NCIS would still be fun, not awkward. And most importantly, the two of them would still be friends, as close as sisters. She could be as vulnerable as she was with Ziva, and not risk the manipulation or dread that came later. She was safe with Ziva.

"For tonight," Ziva echoed as Abby moved in again, their lips making soft contact with each other's. Taking control, Ziva took the glass from Abby's hand, setting it on the table, before pressing in on Abby's space, making her shift back into the couch. Raising her hand, she brushed it through the black hair that had fallen across the pale skin of Abby's face. "So soft," she whispered.

She kissed along her hairline, temple to temple. Breathing against her skin, Ziva whispered, "You are so soft and graceful, Abby. So beautiful."

Abby reached up, brushing her fingers along the edge of Ziva's blouse, feeling the skin that was exposed at the collar. Despite having the reputation as a warrior, her skin was as soft as the black roses Abby loved. Moving her head, she pressed her lips to the skin she felt, her tongue flicking out to taste. "You taste as soft as you feel, Ziva," she breathed, pushing the blouse aside as she continued to explore.

"Oh, no," Ziva corrected. Standing up, she held out her hand. "Tonight is about you. I will be the one exploring and discovering. You will be the one feeling and experiencing." When Abby placed her hand with its black nails into hers, Ziva pulled her up and swiftly against her. In her boots, Abby would have been much taller. But having taken them off, she only found herself a hair higher than the other woman.

When Abby came flush against her, Ziva cupped her skull in one hand, her other pressing low on Abby's lower back. Pulling her in closer, she kissed her deeply, taking control and demanding a response. Grinding their hips together, she didn't stop until Abby opened her legs underneath the assault, opened her mouth for Ziva's tongue to enter. Their tongues played and danced together as Ziva explored the dark recesses of Abby's mouth. Moaning, she thrust against Abby, knowing she had to get them to her bedroom before she took her on the floor or couch.

Grabbing her hand again, she ordered, "In my bedroom, Abby-girl. Now. You deserve more than a quick lay on a couch. On my bed, naked. You have two minutes." She was giving Abby a few minutes to compose herself, to get ready and let the alcohol clear. She wouldn't have this be a mistake, something to regret.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nodding, Abby turned and headed towards Ziva's bedroom. Entering the room, she closed it behind her, leaning on the cool wood. Taking in her surroundings, she was impressed with what she saw. Though she had seen the new place when Ziva had first moved in, she was happy to see her friend had furnished her bedroom in dark, cozy colors and lush fabrics. The environment suited Ziva, as full of depth and warmth as her friend. Her almost lover, Abby thought.

Did she want this? God, yes. Yes, she was in love with Gibbs. She always had been, despite dating others. And probably always would be, despite the unrest between them. But Ziva was offering a connection she was missing in her life; a way of meeting another human in a way as elemental and primal as time. For tonight, she would seek out the comfort and bond that Ziva promised. It may never happen again, but Abby always lived her life fully, richly. And being with Ziva would certainly be enriching.

As she looked around the room, Abby started to slowly undress, lost in her thoughts. Flashes of fantasies wrapped through her brain when she was finished with her blouse and skirt. Shifting to remove her bra, she felt Ziva's hands grasp her wrists.

"Somehow I knew you would be dressed in a lacy black bra and panties. It fits you, Abby. Delicate and edgy." With Abby's arms still locked behind her back, Ziva leaned in, kissing along her creamy shoulder, nibbling along her neck. Abby let her head drop to the side as Ziva's mouth made its way up her neck.

When she reached Abby's ear, she growled. "You will keep your arms behind your back, Abby-girl. Until I tell you otherwise, you're not to touch. Do you understand me?" She could only nod as she felt Ziva moved her hands in front.

Tracing from the straps along the edge, Ziva used a very delicate touch, feeling the contrasts of skin and lace. Moving her hands along, she dipped into the cleft and underneath, holding the weight of each breast in her hands. Her mouth still sucking and nipping along the ridge of Abby's neck, she whispered, "You have amazing breasts, Abby-girl. Bigger than mine, but still enough to fill my hand. God, you look amazing in your little schoolgirl gone bad outfits. You driving everyone crazy when you come running into the squad room, tall black boots, knee-high socks, and skirts so short they should be illegal."

Sliding her hands up, she danced her fingers across her breasts, finding the nipples erect. Twisting the pointed nubs in between her fingers, Ziva growled as she heard Abby taken in a hissing breath. "Do you know that every man, every woman for that matter, follows your progress across the bull pen, watches your pigtails bouncing against your shoulders? That every person wishes to throw you across the desk and find out what you are hiding under that skirt?"

Dipping her hands underneath the fabric, Ziva pulled Abby's breasts out of the bra. "And do you know, Abby-girl, that Gibbs most of all has to hide underneath his desk when you prance up to him? Because he, most of all, wants to drive himself hard and fast inside of you? That he is desperate to feel your heat surround and overtake him."

When Abby went to make a sound of denial, Ziva pinched her nipples before moving around to stand in front of her, clad only in a red silk bra and panties. Kneeling before her, she looked up at Abby, framed by her breasts. "Oh, but he does, Abby. He does. He trained me well, to investigate, to notice what people wish to hide. And he hides it well…just not well enough to someone who is observing."

Resting her forehead against Abby's stomach, she continued talking. "And he will have you. He will know what it feels like to hike that skirt up and drive home inside her. But first, Abby-girl, before he has the chance, you will be mine for the night. One night. Tonight. Remember…keep your hands behind your back."

Beginning at Abby's ankles, Ziva slowly drew her hands up, over her calves, to the back of her knees, where she stopped, tickling her fingers lightly. When she heard the airy giggle from above her, Ziva rose to a crouch, licking at a nipple before sucking it in. Letting her hands rise up, she rested them on Abby's hips, fingers playing along the seam of the black panties, dipping in only to tease and withdraw.

Letting the breast fall out of her mouth with an audible pop, Ziva rested her mouth in the shadowed valley. "You are so different from me. Soft. Luscious. I could spend the rest of the night just devouring your breasts. But I do not have time to waste. The first time is for you alone, and for me to explore. I want to hear you scream, Abby-girl. I want to hear you scream my name, and I want you to know it was me bringing you to the edge and beyond. Ziva. No one else."

She clamped her mouth onto Abby's other breast just as she slipped a finger inside of her panties, teasing the lips, feeling the moisture pooling between the girl's legs. Slowly standing again, Ziva buried her face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent that hung in the air. A combination of Abby's unique scent and her own. It was enough to cause her own panties to become wetter than she thought possible.

Her mouth rising up Abby's neck, she slipped another finger inside her folds, just dancing, teasing over her clit. "You want me, do you not? You want me to slip inside of you. To fuck you with my fingers. I can stretch you, Abby-girl. Make you feel fuller than you thought possible."

"Yes, Ziva. God, yes. Please. Please, I need to feel you." Of its own will, Abby felt her body thrust against Ziva's fingers, needing desperately to feel her touch the very core of her aching body. "Please, Ziva. I need. I need to touch you."

Smiling, Ziva nibbled along Abby's jaw, sucking her earlobe into her mouth. She drew the skin taut before releasing it and whispering, "Not until I tell you to, Abby. Not until I have released you."

Pressing her free hand against Abby's skull, Ziva kissed her hard, her fingers pressing against the sensitive nerves of her clit. Releasing her suddenly, she whispered against the lips still tainted from their ruby lipstick, "Touch me, Abby-girl," before plunging her fingers inside.

Crying out, Abby clung to Ziva as her first orgasm ripped through her, her body clenching around the fingers thrusting inside of her. As she felt her knees collapse, she was vaguely aware of Ziva holding her up and moving to the bed. Her body was still rippling, her mind gone, as she became slowly aware of the last pieces of her clothes being removed.

Immensely pleased with Abby's reaction, Ziva kissed down her naked body, stopping to swirl her tongue in her lover's navel, before moving lower. Breathing in her scent, concentrated at the closeness, Ziva looked up, a smile that showed she was up to no good, before she reached in and parted Abby's folds. Blowing a cool breath across the heated flesh, she moaned in satisfaction as Abby arched off of the bed. Holding her apart with one hand, she moved in, licking slowly, back to front, stopping at her nub which seemed to demand her attention. Licking at it quickly, Ziva sucked her clit in, swirling her tongue around it, as she slipped two fingers in again Abby's hot core again.

Abby reached down, burring a hand into Ziva's dark hair, as she cried out, her body thrashing on the silk sheets. Pulling at her, she begged, "Please, Ziva. Please. I need to touch you. I need to taste you. Move around." Ziva looked up a moment, gauging her response to Abby's request. Deciding to let her have her way, she moved around, straddling Abby, before returning her attack on the hot pussy splayed out in front of her.

When Abby used a hand to pull Ziva's silk red panties aside, she groaned. "God, Ziva. You're completely bare." Pulling her ass down to get closer, Abby arched her head off the bed, tongue ravaging Ziva's hot folds. Exploring the curves and dips of Ziva's pussy, she pressed her tongue into her hole, slowly fucking her with her tongue.

"Oh, Abby. Yes, just like that. Your tongue feels so damn good. Keep going, Abby-girl. I want to come for you. Oh, yeah," Ziva moaned, stopping for a moment to rub her face against Abby's thigh. With a fierce look, Ziva moved back to her attack, deliberately driving Abby higher and higher, closer to climax with every stroke, every lick, every plunge of her fingers.

Pushing first two, then three fingers inside of Abby, Ziva worked her frantically, desperate for her to orgasm, wanting them to experience that crest together. Closer and closer Abby moved, her body raging, blood boiling as her entire being clenched in anticipation. She didn't have to wait long as she felt Ziva plunge a third finger to join the two. Crying out, Abby arched her body, her scream ripped from her soul as she felt Ziva's own body clench around her fingers in orgasm.

Almost of the same mind, the two women moved apart and came back together, this time face to face, kissing and stroking as their bodies came down from their mutual orgasms. Their bodies slick with sweat, Ziva helped Abby as she sought to undress her. Reaching down, she pulled the sheets over them, pulling Abby close.

Resting Abby's head on her shoulder, her lips pressed into the raven hair, she whispered soothing, loving words, words from a friend and a lover, as they both drifted off to sleep, their bodies sated and at peace.

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Downing another shot, Gibbs dropped the small jar with an audible thud next to the bottle of bourbon he'd almost completely consumed. Nothing was working turning out right. Working on his boat wasn't calming him. Sipping on the twelve year-old bourbon, a gift from Ducky, wasn't relaxing him. Hell, he'd even tried calling Abby's cell to apologize, but she wasn't picking up. He couldn't even show how weak he was by apologizing to her.

And damn if he wasn't weak. Weak and undisciplined when it came to Abby Sciuto. From the moment he walked into the forensics lab to deliver evidence to the new scientist below level, from the moment he had seen short skirts, bobbing pigtails, dark nails and the palest skin he'd ever seen – he would swear it looked like pearls in the light of her forensic equipment – Gibbs had been in trouble and weak. He tried to hide it through grunts and growls. But it slipped out on occasion; like giving her a Caf-Pow with an 'I Love You' straw. He would have slapped DiNozzo silly if his agent had tried something like that.

Grabbing his hand sander, Gibbs tried again to work on his new boat; his previous one, the Kelly, was already docked, ready for her first voyage. She was unnamed still, this new boat. But he would get to naming her when the time was right. A few ideas were already running through his head. Running after him in high platform ankle-killers, begging for him to forgive her.

"Dammit!" he cursed, tossing the tool aside. He couldn't get her out of his mind, that look on her face as she ran after him, desperate for him to look at her and be the Gibbs she clung to. But he couldn't. Not then. He'd been so damn pissed at her, at the team, at the murderous son of a bitch who'd almost gotten away with murder and kidnapping, but most especially with himself.

Picking up the jar, which normally housed screws, he poured himself another two fingers of the bourbon, downing it with only a slight flinch. Pouring out another, he sat there, stirring the amber liquid as he tried to sort out what had happened. He'd been so focused on catching the man who murdered the beautiful young mother and had taken the little imp who'd smiled at Gibbs through a sunny day picture, that he refused to look at any other suspects than the one he'd landed his sights on.

Husband is always the first suspect. But it had been the wrong suspect. Completely wrong. The man had been a loving father and husband, dedicated to his family. The fights people had heard coming from their on-base home were arguments about what he would do and where they would live after he retired from the Marines, not anything to do with infidelity. Hell, he and Shannon had had some pretty knock down, drag out fights when she pushed for Gibbs to get out of the Marines. They'd never gotten physical, but from the streets it would have sounded like a war.

Downing his drink, he braced himself on the workbench, lost in thought. When Abby had called him with the news of the evidence, found and processed, he'd already had a sinking suspicion the guy was innocent. No matter what he said or did, the man wouldn't waver. He hadn't killed his wife, and he didn't take his daughter. In fact, the man kept turning the tables around on Gibbs, demanding to know what efforts, besides interrogating him, were being made to find his daughter, to find his wife's killer and to bring them to justice.

And then Abby had called, and Gibbs had vented his spleen onto her. Everything that had been building up came pouring out as he said the most disgusting things to her. Abby wasn't good at her job, she was the best. There was no one in the country who could put together evidence or wring out the truth from something evasive like his Abbs. And she wasn't a freak. Sure, she had the oddest dressing styles. But more times than he could count or care to remember, he'd imagined what it would be like to run his hands over the tops of her boots and up those long, pale legs, to the edge of her skirt before plunging his hands underneath to discover what secrets she barely hid from him.

Picking up the bottle again, Gibbs gave up using the jar and went to straight shots from the dark container. He choked out a laugh as he remembered watching Abby doing the same thing, drunk from fear and too much bourbon as he tried to keep her safe from her psycho ex. He'd almost lost her then, and times before and after that. Each time, his heart would tear out of him, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs would actually feel fear.

Taking one last, long swallow, he put the bottle down and walked, surprisingly straight, to his unfinished boat. Climbing inside, he lay along the spine of her, looking up at the ribs, which were now floating in a lazy alcohol-filled dance.

As he lay on the hard wooden plank, he put his hand at the base of one of the ribs, running it up as far as he could and back down, enjoying the smooth feel of the wood, worn down from hours of work. The motion became almost hypnotizing as the plank slowly transformed into the smooth leg of the one he yearned for. Spinning out a fantasy of pinning Abby against the boat, using the sanded wood as leverage for driving into her, hard and unyielding, he reached down, feeling his aching erection. Maybe I'll name it for her. Maybe I'll name this boat for Abby. Then she'll know how much she means to me, then I'll be able to show her how bad I feel.

"Tomorrow," he murmured as the alcohol slowly dragged him under. "Tomorrow, I'll fix it Abbs. I promise. Tomorrow I'll make everything right again." Taking out the knife from his pocket, small chips were flicked away as he whittled at the rib, carving in a name to remind himself. Stabbing the knife next to his head into the plank he was laying on, he smiled to himself, a little, almost goofy smile. His eyes dragged shut and his limbs went limp as sleep overcame him, showing him dreams of dancing pigtails and swirling skirts, always too short and always too far out of reach.

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Stretching her arms overhead, Abby woke up slowly in a beam of sunlight. Smiling like the cat who lapped up the cream, she turned over onto her stomach, looking for the owner of the bed. She sat up quickly, clutching the tangled sheet to her chest, as she found herself alone. Her green eyes wide and bewildered, she tried to peer through the slightly open door to the bathroom, hoping Ziva had gone in there.

But the woman in question was actually holding a tray in the doorway, enjoying the view. Unwilling to torture her friend too long, Ziva called out to her. "Hey there, sleepy head." A small smile curved her lips as Abby squeaked in surprise. Pushing off the doorframe, she maneuvered the tray closer to the bed. "Do you know how delicious you look, all twisted up on my bed?"

As Abby blushed and stammered trying to find an answer, Ziva laughed as she set the breakfast tray in the middle of the bed. Crawling in next to her, she pulled her robe over her knees as she leaned in to kiss Abby's lips quickly. "Do not worry, sweets. Morning has arrived. And with it the end of our evening together. And I will never forget it, Abby-girl. Last night was…"

"Amazing," Abby finished for her. Reaching up, she brushed a strand of hair away from Ziva's face before cupping her cheek. "It was amazing being with you, Ziva. If I wasn't…" But she stopped there. Ziva deserved more than 'ifs' and 'maybes'. She deserved someone who was there, completely. Someone whose heart didn't belong to another.

Reaching up, she held the hand caressing her face, turning into it as she kissed her palm. "I know, Abby-girl. I know, but you are." Shaking off her almost melancholy mood, she let go of her hand and picked up a piece of toast. Popping into Abby's mouth, she said, "And today, we are going to fix everything, yes?"

Taking hold of the piece, she bit off what was in her mouth and chewed as she looked at Ziva skeptically. As she finished the bite, she reached for a glass of orange juice. Swallowing a sip, she looked around the room again, noting for the first time how bright it was. "Wait? Ziva, what time is it? We've got to get to work!"

Ziva grabbed onto Abby's bare shoulders, forcing her to focus on her. "Do not worry. I called in and took a personal day for the both of us. No questions asked, no answers given. We all deserve to take a day if we need it. And in order to successfully complete all that we have to do, we must have time."

"And what, exactly, are we supposed to be doing?" Abby asked, almost sarcastically.

"Well, first, we are going to have something to eat," Ziva began. "Then you are going to get cleaned up in my bathroom, change into the clothes you brought. We are going to a lovely boutique, a favorite to me, as well as to Tony. Remember Monica? He purchased that nightie for her? La Perla. Ah," she sighed. "It is a lovely place. We are going to find you something to wear under those naughty clothes of yours. Something that will break down any barrier Gibbs will try to construct between you. Then you are going to go home, take a nap, get refreshed. Because tonight, you will be seducing Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And if my instincts are correct, you will need your sleep, Abby-girl."

Finishing off her juice, Abby reached for another piece of toast. "Sounds like you spent awhile figuring this out. And you're sure this will work?"

"Abby, Gibbs is a man. A very virile, very sexual man, despite what me may show the team and NCIS. Time isn't needed for a seduction like this, just a few steps of careful planning." Seeing that Abby had made good work of her part of the breakfast, Ziva shooed her off to the bathroom. "Now go get cleaned up. We have work to do."

Scrambling off the bed, Abby missed the wicked gleam in Ziva's eyes as she reached out and slapped Abby's ass. Gasping, she turned around, dropping the sheet. They both burst out into a fit of laughter, as Abby stuck her tongue out and bolted for the bathroom, grabbing her bag as she passed.

Walking into a bathroom set with blues and soft browns, Abby set her bag on the counter before grabbing a towel off of the towel rack. Turning the water on, she set the towel down next to the sink. Looking at herself in the mirror, she studied her reflection.

Could she really do this? Could she really just walk into Gibbs' basement and seduce him? Was she even ready for this? Who was she kidding? She'd been ready for this since the first time she'd spun around in her new lab and found a devilishly handsome, silver-haired man standing in her doorway.

As the steam from the sink fogged the glass, Abby gathered her courage and the confidence Ziva had shown her. Dipping her head, she washed her face, then her body with a wet facecloth. Drying off, she pulled her hair on the top of her head into a high ponytail. Grabbing her clean clothes, she slid them on and adjusted them in the fogged mirror.

Deciding she was ready, she walked back into the bedroom to find Ziva dressed and the bed made, all traces of their evening together gone. Saddened a bit that all physical reminders of being together were gone, she fingered the edge of the bed.

Ziva walked up behind her, wrapping her arms around Abby's waist. Resting her chin on her shoulder, she whispered into her ear. "Last night was amazing, Abby-girl. And I will hold those memories and you in my heart forever. But you belong to another. And someday, maybe so will I." Kissing Abby below her ear, she pulled away. Holding out her hand, she said, "Come on, baby girl. Let's go get you something sexy."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Leaving Abbs' lab for the third time out, Gibbs chucked the third Caf-Pow he'd purchased into the trash. There'd be no point if all the ice was melted. Getting onto the elevator, he slammed the button for the squad room, standing back as the doors slid shut. Stock still, he waited as the car moved up a few floors before slamming his palm against the emergency button.

Groaning, he braced himself on the rail on the wall, his legs spread shoulder-width apart. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes, pain washing over him. His plans to apologize, to try to make it up to Abby were trashed. Three times he had gone down to the forensics lab. Three times he'd brought Caf-Pow. And three times he'd returned to the squad room, Caf-Pows in the trash. She hadn't been in, she wasn't answering his calls.

Walking into the bull pen, Gibbs looked over Tony and Tim, who were both finishing up the paperwork from their most recent closed case, the one that had driven a break through him and Abby. Sitting down at his desk, he shuffled and organized some papers, trying to figure out what to do. He'd never felt so lost or out of sorts. All because of one woman. Putting on his glasses, he turned to his email, determined to get some sort of work done.

His phone rung harshly in the relative quiet, and he picked it up quickly. "Gibbs."

"Gibbs, have you checked your email recently?" Vance asked abruptly.

Disappointed at the voice on his phone, his bit out, "No. Been a little busy on a case, Director."

Taking a deep breath, Vance pinched his nose, trying to keep his cool. He'd had a conversation with Ziva a few hours earlier. From her, he knew that there was a dilemma inside Gibbs' team. Hopefully, they'd be able to work the situation out before he had to step in and intervene.

"Well, if you'd had, you would know that both Abby and Ziva have taken a personal day. Neither woman will be in the office today."

Closing his eyes, he absorbed the news. "Is that all, Director?"

"Nope, that's it. Just thought you should know."

Gibbs hung up the phone quickly, cutting off anymore of the conversation. Rolling his eyes, Vance put his phone back with a click, going back to the mountain of paperwork his teams were turning into him.

Downstairs, Gibbs looked blindly at his computer screen, his heart aching. Dammit, but he wasn't used to feeling this way, feeling anything like this at all. He'd hoped to patch it over with a kiss on the cheek and the Caf-Pow. Anytime when he'd been harsh or distracted, a kiss and a Caf-Pow seemed to fix everything. But if she hadn't been coming into work, what she loved, then it went beyond what he knew to do. This wouldn't be fixed with something simple. And he, for the first time in a long time, was desperate, desperate to fix his break from Abby. He didn't know when or how, but she had become as essential to him as coffee or working on his boat.

Lost in his thoughts and self-deprecating musings, Gibbs failed to notice a ninja crossing the bullpen. Failed to notice, that is, until the ninja dropped a box onto his desk. "What the…?" Bracing himself on the desk, he almost stood up before catching himself. Instead, he looked up, quick to recognize just who the ninja was. "Ziva! You're here. Does that mean…?" He couldn't finish the question, not knowing how much Ziva knew, knowing how much the guys didn't.

Staring down at him knowingly, she swiftly and quietly dissuaded him of that hope. "No, Gibbs. She's not here. She stayed the night at my place." Though the guys would often push them, joking to know the details, hoping, for reasons beyond her, that there would be pillow fights. If they only knew what really happened last night…"We went out for a bit today, but she was on her way home when we parted ways." Ziva refused to expand, though she knew exactly where Abby was headed and what she was planning.

"Is she…when will she be coming back to work?" There was so much he wanted to ask her, so much he needed to find out. But she wasn't a suspect, and this wasn't interrogation, no matter how much he yearned to shoot off questions at her. Besides, there was a look about her, a strong confident feeling that was setting his teeth on edge. He had this overwhelming need to demand what she did with Abby. It didn't make sense. She and Abby hadn't…and even if they had, he had no right to be jealous because…Gibbs was certain he was going to drive himself insane with all of these questions.

"Of course, Gibbs. She is not physically harmed, nor is she ill. She just…needed some time away from the office, as they say." Reaching forwarded, she pushed the white box with its black ribbon towards him.

"What's this?" He asked, confused, not recognizing the label. "Grigio Perla? What is it?" he asked, a little too loudly.

"La Perla?" Tony asked, too cheerily, badly attempting to cover that he'd been trying to listen in. Walking over, he saw the label. "Ahh…Grigio Perla. Nice stuff. A bit pricey for guys underwear though. Wait, Ziva, why are you buying the boss underwear?"

"Nevermind, Tony." Giving him a look that read 'if you don't go back and sit down, I will make you,' she returned her attention to Gibbs, hoping that Tony would at least have the good sense to return to his desk, even if he was eavesdropping. Hearing move in the direction of his desk, she smiled to herself.

"Take this, Gibbs. And go home," she began, pushing the box towards him once more. "Tell Tony and McGee to take the day off, call up Vance. Tell him you are giving the entire team the day off, and go home. Take a shower, put these on underneath your clothes, and go work on your boat."

"Ziva, why would I…"

"Just do it," she interrupted. "Trust me. You do trust me, Gibbs, do you not?" Lowering her voice, she leaned over the desk, closer to him. "You do want to fix things with Abby, yes?"

"Of course I do," he growled.

"Then. Go. Home. Do I say, and go home." Giving him a cryptic, slightly naughty smile, Ziva turned and left without another word, heading towards the elevator.

He watched her go, watched her walk onto the elevator and never turn around. She had all the answers, and if he really had the courage everyone commended him for, he'd chase after her, demanding answers. Even if he had, Ziva probably still wouldn't tell him. She'd keep the damn answers to herself, never breaking Abby's confidence, never telling him what he so urgently needed to know. Instead, she wanted him to go home and take a fucking shower! She was planning something, he could smell it. But would it really help what he had broken between him and Abby?

And that smile she gave him before strutting away. What in the hell did that mean?

"What the hell is going on with my team," he growled, making Tim and Tony jump in their seats.

"Boss?" they asked in unison.

"Go home," he gritted out. "I'm giving you two the day off, since apparently everyone can just not show up to work when they feel like it. Go. Home." He barked when it looked like the two agents would argue with him.

Punching in the director's line, he told Cynthia simply that he was giving his team the day off. Slamming the phone down, he stood up, fingering the ribbon on the box. It was fluttering in the breeze of the air conditioning, teasing him that it knew the answers to what was driving him slowly to his knees.

"Hell." He gave up trying to figure out what was happening and headed towards the elevator in the wake of his agents' bewildered faces, box tucked under his arm. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw Vance staring down at him from his perch.

As the director gave him a slight nod, Gibbs stiffened up, guessing that Vance had ascertained more than was told to him, more than even he knew about. Not liking one bit that Vance may have more information than he did, he gave him his short customary nod. He couldn't wait around to hand out explanations to a boss that didn't care anyhow, as long as the job got done.

No, instead, he apparently had a date with a shower and whatever was in the box.

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Looking at herself in the mirror, Abby couldn't help but think how absurd everything was becoming. Here she was, dressed in a ridiculously expensive La Perla nightie, getting ready to seduce Gibbs in his basement. Turning to look at herself in the mirror, she contemplated how she looked.

Though the outfit seemed outrageous, Abby had to admit that Ziva was right; it fit her like a glove, encasing her body in the most flattering way. And the fact it looked like her body was wrapped in a spider web helped the illusion. Shaking her head, she finished getting ready. Dabbing on some perfume, she continued to debate with herself on the wisdom of the risk she was about to take.

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Steam rising around him, Gibbs stepped out of the shower and shook the water from his hair before running a hand through it. Turning towards the towel hanging off the shower door, his movement caused a few strands of hair to pop up in a cowlick at the crown of his head. Drying off, he wrapped the towel low over his hips, walking out of the bathroom in a haze of steam. As he approached the bed, he considered the box he left there.

Growling, he pulled the ribbon, watching it fall to the bed. Flicking the lid off, he unfolded the white tissue paper inside, paper so delicate it threatened to fall apart from the calluses on his fingers. Pushing the paper aside, he pulled out the black boxers nestled inside.

His eyes squinted in irritation as he looked over the underwear. What in the hell was Ziva playing at? Crumpling up the fabric, he was about to toss it into a corner of his room, when he changed his mind. Rolling his head back, the feeling that he was about to succumb to Ziva's directions had him frustrated. Finally, he pulled the towel off, baring his skin to the cool air of the room.

The hair on his legs prickled as he slowly pulled the boxers over his legs. He groaned as he adjusted himself. The fabric was smooth, soft enough to drive him to semi-hardness just by putting it on. It wrapped around him, cradling him in half-suspension, caressing him in ways clothes shouldn't. If he had to wear it longer than a little while, he'd barely be able to make it downstairs to his boat.

Serves me right, lusting after Abby and breaking her like that. But it went beyond mere lust for Gibbs. He was almost terrified that his heart, as well as Abby's, had be become involved. They were intertwined, in one way or another, and Gibbs had to figure out which way that was. Did he simply enjoy her company and the way her quick mind worked? Or when his heart beat faster at the sight of her, his lips demanded more than simple contact with her cheek, when his arms sought to defy his brain to hug her tightly, did it mean that his heart was no longer and things were fatally beyond his control?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the dangerous thoughts that threatened to send him to Abby's doorstep, begging her forgiveness, he dressed quickly, determined to ignore his aching groin. The bedroom door slammed behind him, accompanied by the sounds of his feet hitting the stairs. Reaching the landing of the main floor, Gibbs looked around, aware of subtle changes in the air. Something had changed since he had gone upstairs, something more than his underwear.

Wishing he could put it off as a coincidence, as his mind simply overworking every nuance around him, he did a sweep of the house, finding nothing amiss. Coming to the front door, he found it locked, something he never did, with a faint hint of gunpowder and orchid in the air.

Could she?

Is she?

Rushing down the stairs to his basement, he hesitated on the last few before they turned in towards the room. Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath and opened them slowly. In front of him, a woman, with black hair falling around her shoulders, stood tracing her finger over one of the ribs of his boat. A memory flashed through a fog-hazed memory of him tracing a name in the wood. Her name. His girl.

"Abby?" he asked, afraid she was really wasn't there, that he'd finally snapped, and she was a hallucination, sent to torment rather than to charm.

His vision turned slowly towards him, her hair shadowing the spiderweb tattoo, obscuring it from view. A part of his brain recognized that her hair was not in her normal pigtails, or even braids, but down around her shoulders in a style she only wore when she was upset or intense. She wore a dark skirt that wrapped tightly around her waist, slit on the side to show skin all the way to her hip. Her white blouse gapped to show enough cleavage to drag him under, and her long pale legs encased in tall leather boots.

Her face, normally with overly darkened eyes, was covered in very little makeup, causing her green eyes to scream at him with vulnerability, a black collar standing out against her white throat. This collar was devoid of spikes, but rather contained a line of circular crystals through the middle, winking at him, teasing him to come and run his tongue along the smooth leather and rough edges of light.

Walking towards her, every step mesmerized by her eyes, her mouth as she bit her lower lip. He felt a punch to his stomach and his groin tighten as she let it go, tongue running along the edge, leaving a bright shine to the reddened lip. As he stopped in front of her, inches from the body he wished to wrap in his arms, her hand came up and played with the open edges of her blouse. From the corner of his eyes, he could see some sort of place lace. But he couldn't concentrate on that, he had to keep his attention on her, afraid she would bolt and, this time, be the one to run.

Reaching out, he brushed her hair from her face, sighing as he finally accepted that she was real and not a vision his mind had created. "Abby."

His fingers danced over her skin, a light touch, roughened by years of hard work as a Marine, as a man. Fingers sending lightening through her body, Abby leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for only a brief moment before opening them again.

"Gibbs, I'm…" He stopped her by pressing his finger to her lips, then stunned her by pressing his forehead to hers.

"You're not the one who should be apologizing, Abbs. I said…I said some horrible things to you. None of which are true." Abby tried to stop him, by he shook his head against hers. "No, Abbs. Let me finish."

He took a deep breath to steady himself and started again. "When I said you were failing at your job, I lied. We all let that suspect slip through. We caught him, by the way, and he's gonna stay behind bars for a long time, thanks to you and the rest of the team." Getting himself back on track, he continued. "You are one of the best forensics scientists in the country, probably the best. You find things where no one else can, clues in the middle of chaos. You help me give victims peace. Not a lot of people can say that, can say that they spend their days solving questions in order to fight for victims."

Pulling away, he put his finger under her chin, forcing her head up so that he could look her in the eyes. His intense cobalt blue eyes bore into the deep jade green of hers. They sought out the truth, the pain and joy of it, not flinching from everything he saw. And he saw it all, to the depths of the essence of what made her Abby.

"Most of all, Abbs, you are no freak. You are a beautiful, talented, slightly crazy, very caffeinated, intelligent, spirited woman." Brushing his thumb over her lips, he wondered why she didn't have them painted. "And I…" He hesitated, on the brink. But no matter how much his heart screamed at him, his brain couldn't get past the barrier, he couldn't take the step.

Her heart was racing at his touch, her eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "Why, Gibbs? Why'd you say all that?"

He ducked his head and moved away, wary of having to explain it again. "Because I was pissed, Abbs. I was pissed that the gut that everyone hailed as being infallible failed me. I took it out on you, Abbs, and I shouldn't have." He moved to where he had carved her name into the rib of his boat. "I laid here, last night, wondering what I could do to fix it, how I could convince you I didn't mean it, that I'd only been striking out at the first person I could. And, I'm…I'm so sorry I did that. God, Abby. I'm so sorry."

Stepping away from the boat a few steps, she whispered, "I thought apologizing was a sign of weakness…"

"Not to you, Abbs," Gibbs said steadily, turning to face her, though her back was to him. "Never to you. I…last night, I decided how to show you how much I…" He was about to say 'love you,' but his mind rebelled again. "I carved your name into her rib. I wanted to name her after you, Abbs. I needed you to know."

Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she turned to face him, her hand playing with the top button of her blouse. "I thought you hated me, Gibbs. I thought you…"

"Abby, no. I could never hate you." He started to take a step towards her, but stopped when she held a hand up. "Abby…" Gibbs was as close to begging as he'd ever been.

"Stop, Gibbs. Just stop. I don't want you to apologize. I don't want you to beg." She lowered her eyes as she felt her body heat up at the thought of what she really did need from him.

"What can I do to get you to forgive me? What do you want, Abbs? Whatever you want me to do…" He stopped when she looked up, seeing the fire in her eyes.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse and skirt, letting them fall to the floor as he stood there, mesmerized. Wrapping her body in gossamer silk, the nightie was a confection of spider webs and fire, encompassing her breasts in flames, resting on the tops of her hips in the spider's strands. In the darkened basement, he could only see a shadow nestled at the juncture of her thighs, unsure if she wore panties that blended with the laced silk. Her nipples thrust through the flames, enticing him to taste through their soft prison.

His eyelids lowered and he gritted his jaw. For a brief moment, he tried to resist, tried to halt his body from moving towards hers. But seeing her body wrapped in spider webs, a continuation of the tattoo on her neck spreading out across her body, seeing her eyes burning for him, Gibbs found he just didn't have the strength to stop.

She watched him walk towards her, stalking her; not to consume her, not a hunter after his prey, but as a tiger after his tigress, a predator after his mate. A shiver ran through her body as every step brought him closer to her. She gasped his name as he finally reached her space.

He paused a moment, a moment to give her the chance to pull away, the last chance to stop before they started. Not hesitating, not waiting a single breath, Abby knew what she wanted. She had waited far too long as it was.

Shifting forward, she closed the final breath between them, placing her hands against his chest. "What do I want you to do? I don't want you to do anything, Gibbs. I need you to touch me, to taste me, to take me. I need you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, to make me yours."

Digging his hands into her hair, he understood why she left it down, but he still missed the pigtails. Moving to slam his mouth down to hers, he stopped teasing her a hairsbreadth from contact. He smiled when she growled his name. "Gib…" But she didn't have the chance to say his name; her mouth was too busy being taken over by his.

He bent her nearly in two as his mouth slowly explored this new territory. And it was his territory now. She became his the moment she stepped into his house, into his basement. Hell, she was his the moment she stepped into his life. His Abby. His girl.

Releasing a hand, he trailed his fingers down the side of her neck, fingering the flimsy strap at her shoulder. Moving lower, he traced the fiery edges of the nightie, the top of her breast exposed to his touch. He continued to tease, not moving any further, not pressing against her any harder, even as she groaned and squirmed against him.

Arching her neck, she broke contact with his lips as she moaned her need. She needed to feel him, needed him to feel her. Her hands, clutching at his shoulders, released their hold and pushed lower, edging under his t-shirt. "I need…you…" Abby couldn't finish her sentence, her brain refusing to form the words.

Pulling back briefly, he gave her the space to remove his shirt before pressing his body hard against hers again, his mouth instantly finding her neck. He traced the lines of her throat, moving slowly to the pulse beating at the bottom. Sucking lightly, he gave himself a moment to cherish in his mind the feeling of her life beneath him, poised to take him as he was preparing to take her.

His hand moved lower to tease her nipple as it circled closer, but never really reaching. The hands that were moving across his back bit down, the nails raking over him lightly as she moaned his name.

"Gibbs. Oh God, Gibbs." The feeling of him against, the knowledge that it was really him, drove Abby higher and even more desperate. Trailing her hands down, she pushed at his jeans, wanting them off.

Pulling one of her legs behind his waist, his lips traveled lower over her collarbone as he growled. "Jethro. Call me Jethro," he ordered as he sucked in a nipple through the lacey fabric. Biting down, he thrust against her through what remained of their clothes.

Screaming his name, she lost all sense of self as her body exploded in climax. Thrusting again, he moved his hand between their bodies and under the webbing surround her. He took her mouth again, growling in the back of his throat as he discovered what she had underneath, or the lack thereof. In the shadows of his basement, he couldn't tell what she had on beneath the spider webs and flames. But against his hand, he felt nothing, but wet flesh of her pussy. Pushing a finger inside, he rubbed at her sensitive flesh, sending her crashing over again.

Distracted as she was, she failed to notice Gibbs pick her up as if she weighed nothing. It wasn't until she felt the bite of the wood against her back that she realized they had moved. She was suddenly bereft of his heat, so she opened her eyes. But what she saw had her grinning a greedy smile.

He was quickly, if not so gracefully, divulging himself of his clothes. The sound of ripping packaging filled the air, before she saw him slip the condom on before moving in. She started to protest; she wanted to see him more of him after all. But he growled again. "Later. I can't wait much longer, Abbs. God, I need you. I need to be inside of you. Now."

Nodding in agreement, she pulled him in as he lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist. Positioned at the core of her, he teased her entrance with the tip of him, coating his cock with her juices. Bracing herself against the ribs of the boat, her body poised against the brink, she moaned his name, crazed with the need to feel him buried inside of her.

Prolonging the feeling, he tried to hold off, tried to make this first time last longer between them. But emotions had run so hot and it had been so long, that Gibbs didn't know how much longer he was going to last. As he stilled, mentally debating with himself again, Abby made the decision for him. Moving her head to his, she whispered near his ear. "If you don't fuck me now, Jethro, I'm going to leave you behind. My body can't take any more waiting. Now, Jethro. Fuck me now."

Plunging deep inside of her, he cried out. "Abbs…God. You feel…incredible. You're so hot and tight. I don't think I'm going to last. Dammit, but you deserve to be taken slowly and gently. Not like an animal."

Still near his ear, she growled back. "I may deserve that, but I don't want it. I want you to take me hard, fast, as animal as you can, as primal as I feel right now. Later, you can make love to me. But Jethro, right now, I just want you to fuck me."

Roaring his pleasure, Gibbs started thrusting hard and fast, pushing her against the smooth wood. Just like his deepest fantasies, he had her against the side of his boat. But unlike his fantasies, she was hotter than he could have imagined. Her body was so wet and tight, made for the thrusting of his, made for being taken by him, only him.

Their sounds, her screams and his groans, echoed through the cavern of the basement, sounds of their bodies slamming together, wet, hot sounds as his body took hers roughly. Her nails scored his back again as she felt her body tense, getting ready for the final release. "I'm so close. Don't stop. Yes. Jeth…don't. Stop."

He was so close, he would have chosen death over stopping. Hearing her cries, he picked up speed, plunging impossibly harder as her body took his impossibly deeper. She shouldn't have been able to accept his punishing thrusts, but she did, over and over, screaming for more. Feeling the walls of her pussy tighten around him, he thrust roughly one final time, driving them both over the edge into an orgasm that tore their worlds apart.

His body continued to move, hips moving slowly as they both came down. Her body was still wrapped around his as he slid out, groaning against the fact he had to leave the cock-hugging space. Gathering her in his arms, he moved towards the stairs, carrying her limp body up and through the house. Going up the last flight of stairs, he made it to his bedroom. Slipping inside, he moved to the bed, pulling the sheets down.

Setting her on her feet, he smiled at her dazed look. Pulling the nightie up and over her head, he tossed the scrap of fabric towards the chair in the corner of the room before laying Abby out on the bed. She made a sound of distress, not wanting him to leave her.

"Easy, Abbs. I'm right here." He crawled in next to her, gathering her up into his arms again. Pulling the sheets over them, he encircled her body with his as their sweat cooled in the night air. "Sleep, my little spitfire. I'm not going to let you go."

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The bright light of the moon woke him up as he looked down at the woman wrapped around his chest. Pushing the black hair aside, he fell into the surreal spell of the moon as he was amazed at the fact it hadn't been a dream.

Rolling her over onto her back, he slowly kissed her awake, covering her body as he made love to her as she had promised. Slow, drugged kisses. Hot moans. Rolling climaxes that shook her body and shattered his heart.

Drunk off of each other, they fell asleep again under the spell of the moon, as it cast laced shadows over the room.

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Sometime in the early morning hours, Abby woke up. Staring at Gibbs, she brushed the hair from his brow, smoothing the worry lines from his face. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she slipped out of the bed and padded naked to the window.

Staring out the glass, she thought about all that had happened. About Ziva. About Gibbs. About how the two had brought her such love, in such different ways. In Ziva, she had a friend that would enrich her life for the entirety of it. And in Gibbs, she had a man who would drive her crazy, then drive her to explode.

Feeling Gibbs' arms slip around her, she knew she shouldn't have been surprised that she didn't really slip out of the bed undetected, or that she hadn't heard him come up behind her. As he nuzzled her neck, he asked, "What are you thinking about, Abbs?"

Considering it seriously, she answered, "Cosmo's moon."

"You've been watching too many movies with Tony again, Spitfire. I think I'm going to have to keep you distracted."

She laughed, arching her head for him. "I'm impressed you got the reference, Jethro. You've seen _Moonstruck?_"

"If you're impressed by that, you've got a lot to learn about me," he warned good naturedly as he slipped a finger inside of her. He laughed as she gasped in shock. "It's good to see I can surprise you. You're gonna have to learn to keep on your toes," he warned, adding another finger.

As her body started to ride his hand, she laughed. "I'm looking forward to it."


End file.
